


it's loud and tasteless (and i've heard it before)

by liionne



Series: my baby just cares for me [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Galas, M/M, and some sweet job offers, art and science, fancy fashion, steve is insecure, turns out he's just wearing a nice jacket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 14:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14620809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: “Hey stevie - wanna go to the Stark Foundation Gala?”He says it with the same bubbly, conversational tone that he uses to ask if Steve wants to go out for lunch, or out for a few drinks.Hey Stevie, wanna go to one of the most publicised events of the year, yknow one of the most grandiose, highly anticipated celebrity events of the season, you wanna go to the fucking stark foundation gala?Steve's still getting a handle on this famous thing.





	it's loud and tasteless (and i've heard it before)

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a follow on from my baby don't care for shows (my baby just cares for me), and from its sequel solid gold (and perfect to the touch), so I'd suggest at least reading solid gold before you read this! I can't stop you, of course. You do you. 
> 
> If you want to see my inspo for the outfits in the follow fic, see the notes at the bottom!

Bucky drapes himself over the back of Steve's chair, chin resting on Steve's shoulders. Steve is working on a new project, tongue caught between his lips as he works. He promptly stops when Bucky says, “Hey stevie - wanna go to the Stark Foundation Gala?”

He says it with the same bubbly, conversational tone that he uses to ask if Steve wants to go out for lunch, or out for a few drinks. _Hey Stevie, wanna go to one of the most publicised events of the year, yknow one of the most grandiose, highly anticipated celebrity events of the season, you wanna go to the fucking stark foundation gala?_

Steve's still getting a handle on this famous thing.

“My agent says Tony Stark himself was asking if I was going. Tony Stark, Steve, he's--”

“Super rich and famous, I know.” Steve nods.

“And he’s asking about me!” Bucky grins. “So I can totally get tickets.”

“Aren’t they super expensive?” Steve asks. He had known that this was going to happen at some point, and there’s a little feeling, like a peach pit, sitting in his stomach. “I can’t afford--”

“Stevie, I’d pay for ‘em, and--”

“Nu uh.” Steve says, head shaking. “Bucky, I won’t let you pay for my half of a basket of fries, what makes you think I’m gonna let you pay $30,000 for a ticket to the Stark Foundation Gala?”

“Because I can afford it?”

Wrong. Fucking. Answer.

Bucky has the good grace to realise as soon as the words are out of his mouth, though, and he groans, shifting so he can move around the front of the chair, wedging himself between Steve and the desk. Steve decides not to look at him, scowling at the table, except now that Bucky’s in the way he’s mostly just scowling at Bucky’s dick, and what did Bucky’s dick ever do to him?

(Nothing that he wasn’t a complete fan of, that was for sure.)

“Stevie, I didn’t mean it like that,” Bucky says, his head shaking, hands pawing at Steve to get him to look at him. God, he’s annoying. Steve wants to be angry, he can’t be angry if Bucky’s gonna act all desperate-- “I just wanna treat you, Stevie. I know it’s a lot, but it’s one night, and it ain’t nothing but-- just one night.” Bucky knows him too well; he can see Steve’s resolve wavering. Fuck. “Next year I’ll let you pay for your own ticket.” He says softly, grinning just a little bit, and god damn it, that gets to Steve.

He wants to say no, but he also wants to make Bucky happy, and he has seen Bucky’s bank account. $60k is a fortune to Steve, but not to his boyfriend, and apparently he doesn’t mind spending it on a party.

“It’s a charity event, Stevie. It rakes in millions of dollars a year for underprivileged kids.” Bucky adds, still in that soft voice that he knows always works on Steve. “It’s for a good cause.”

Sure, it’s for a good cause. A big red carpet and a whole load of cameras and a stupid suit, all for a good cause. Dressed up and paraded around like some kind of prize heifer, but hey, it’s for a good cause.

It really is, though.

Steve groans, and flops forward, his head resting against Bucky’s stupid rock-hard stomach. He doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s grinning.

Bucky slides his hands into Steve’s hair, massaging his scalp gently, scratching a little with his nails. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” Steve sighs. He doesn’t want to know what that kind of a verbal contract entails - he has a feeling that the answer is “a lot”.

But actually, he doesn’t hear anything for a little while - it’s late October before Bucky comes in the door, waving an envelope and Steve and giggling like some kind of school girl. “Look what i have!” He beams, handing Steve the envelope.

Steve frowns at him, opening it carefully. Inside are two pieces of card, red background with gold font; Steve knows he could have done better than this, but whatever.

“Tickets for the gala!” Bucky grins, like he’s Charlie and he’s just found a golden ticket, or something. He kind of has, Steve supposes, looking at the carefully printed gold script. “Sharon said my name was top of the list - Stark wants me there especially. How cool is that?”

Steve had sort of forgotten all about the Gala, but now it brings up fresh feelings of dread that he tries to push back down so that he can smile and be happy about this.

Here’s the thing: Steve is well aware of the fact that he isn’t good enough for Bucky. Steve is 5’7 and skinny and not that much to look at. Bucky is - Bucky. Tall, dark and handsome, commands a room just by being in it. Bucky is everything Steve wishes he could be and all of his best fantasies all in one, and he loves him so much but he knows he’s punching way above his belt here.

He doesn’t really want the whole world to see it, though. And if -when - they go to this Gala, the whole world is going to know, because you can’t go to an event like this and not have everyone figure your shit out.

“No,” Bucky says, and Steve worries for a moment that he said all that out loud, but then Bucky gives him a curious look. “You’re thinking too much. What’re you doing?”

“I’m just thinking, y’know--” Steve shrugs his shoulders, puts the invitations carefully back in the envelope. “Wouldn’t you rather go with Nat? She’s a lot better at that stuff than I am.”

“Nat has her own ticket.” Bucky says, frowning ever so softly. “Steve, if you don’t wanna go…”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Bucky, I just--”

He and Steve have had this conversation in the months between the Siberian Cell premiere and right now. In fact, they’d had the conversation not long after the premiere itself, sometimes after Steve had recovered from his bout of flu and gone back to work. The Conversation, as Steve had termed it, had been a very serious affair, in which Bucky had explained how the big events and the paparazzi and the people stopping him for selfies all the time were just a part of his life. A shitty part, maybe - the paparazzi more than anything, Bucky didn’t mind the other two too much - but part and parcel of the career he had chosen, and one he wasn’t going to give up, not just yet.

“I love you so much, Steve,” He’d said. “But this - it’s an opportunity I never thought I was gonna get, y’know? I know it’s selfish, but I can’t give that up.”

Steve didn’t want him to give it up. Still doesn’t. So he’d held both of Bucky’s hands in his and assured him that he could handle it, the red carpets and the screaming fans and the photographers - even if he couldn’t, he would learn to, because he loves Bucky. He’d do anything for him.

He figures that this little wobble falls under the category of The Conversation, and so he takes a deep breath. Before he can say it’s nothing, Bucky moves to sit next to him, reaching out to brush Steve’s hair out of his eyes.

“If you really don’t wanna go, I’m not gonna make you, but - I really want you there. And the theme this year is Art in Science. I thought that’d be right up your alley. You might even have fun.”

Art in Science does sound pretty cool. Steve leans his head against Bucky’s shoulder, and huffs softly. “You can’t abandon me. That’s my one rule. You gotta stick with me.”

“Like glue.” Bucky agrees, kissing the top of his head.

Steve can live with that, he decides. Maybe Bucky’s right. Maybe he will have fun.

~*~

But then the suit fittings begin.

“It’s one of the biggest events of the year, Stevie, you need a suit.”

“I have a suit.”

“A new suit.”

“I can’t afford that, bucky.”

“I thought we agreed we were doing this on my dime?”

“Oh my god.”

“Should I come back later?”

That last voice was the voice of Wanda Maximoff, an up-and-coming designer who had been dressing up-and-coming celebrities for a few years now. She’s highly coveted, and highly recommended. Bucky tells Steve he should feel special. Steve doesn’t.

“No,” Bucky smiles, always the charmer. Steve does his best to grimace, the exact opposite. Then he feels mean, because it’s not Wanda’s fault, so he rearranges his features into a small, sheepish smile. “Come on in.”

They’re at Sharon’s office, because that’s more professional, or something. Wanda has a book full of designs from her last show and another full of fabric samples, and she also has an assistant toting a tape measure. Steve know this is gonna be a long day, so he settles in.

Bucky and Wanda discuss the theme, flicking through each book, and Steve really does his best to contribute. God, does he try. This stuff mostly goes over his head, until he convinces himself that it’s art, just like anything else, it’s just… art that goes on your body. Right?

“Alright, so we’re going for look 15 for you, James,” James. Steve’ll never get used to that, jeez. “With the red at the bottom, bleeding into the black, and we can add the metal effect to the arms--”

“Just the left.” Bucky says. Steve looks at him; Bucky shrugs in turn. Whatever floats your boat, Steve supposes.

Wanda writes that down. “Just the left.” She repeats. “And for you, Steve, we’re going for the look 12, but keeping the pattern just on the blazer.” Steve has very little idea what he’s agreed to, but he doesn’t have time to ask, because once she’s done scribbling, Wanda claps her hands together. “Alright.” She smiles. “Measurements.”

Steve wants to die.

~*~

The next few months pass in a flurry of activity. There are more suit fittings in December, and they celebrate their anniversary in early January, and entire year together, after which things start slowly going back to normal. Oscar nominations are announced in late January, and in late February Bucky brings his award home, and the world finds out who _James Barnes’ mystery friend_ is.

Suddenly everyone wants a piece of Bucky, even more than they had before. Steve can understand; he wants all of Bucky too, as much of him as he can have, as much as Bucky is willing to give - which, as it turns out, is a lot.

By the time the May rolls around, Steve is actually sort of excited. On the day of, an entire team of people troop into their apartment, making final touches to their suits whilst they're actually on their bodies. It's a level of bougie that Steve isn't used to and never will be used to, a little voice in the back of his mind telling him what the fuck, but then he looks at Bucky's smiling face (he hasn't stopped smiling all day, idiot is that excited) and smiles a little himself.

Bucky's suit fits him like a glove, and the way the left arm has been made to look like metal is something else; he looks like he's going to a gala in a science fiction book. And yet, despite how good he looks, Bucky is looking at _him_ , especially once the team have cleared out and it's just the two of them, waiting for the car. Steve starts blushing after Bucky stares for a straight minute, and he ducks his head, looking at Bucky through his lashes. “What?”

“Nothing, you just - you look really good.” Bucky grins.

“Wanda outdid herself.” Steve agrees, tugging down his blazer to straighten it out. He'd been amazed when he'd seen it all completed for the first time, just about a month ago - whilst Bucky's jacket was made of various colours of thread woven together to make a bespoke fabric, Steve's was an ordinary jacket (as ordinary as a $3000 suit jacket could be), hand embroidered with thousands if little beads, green and red and blue, reminiscent of peacock feathers but actually based on a photograph Wanda had showed him of some brightly stained cells. It was art and it was science - very fitting, as far as Steve was concerned.

“Well, sure,” Bucky nods, stepping forward to straight Steve's tie, hands settling on his chest. “But it wouldn't look half as good if you weren't in it.”

Steve blushes an even more furious shade of red, and Bucky grins, leaning down to kiss him just as the call comes up from Sharon, the car having arrived. Bucky nabs the invitations and slip them into his jacket pocket, winking at Steve as the two of them head downstairs.

It's not Steve’s first time on a red carpet (his third, actually, which is three more red carpets than he'd ever thought he'd walk on in his lifetime), but he still isn't used to it; he still needs Bucky to tuck him into his side and lead him along, pausing at a tonne of different places, as instructed by Sharon, to get their photos taken.

It _is_ his first time at a gala, however; Steve has no idea what's going to happen once they've made their way along the red carpet and up the steps of the old Stark Mansion, once a home to the Stark family, now a science and technology museum. Steve struggles to believe it was once a home to the Stark family, seeing as the “stark family” consisted of Howard, Maria, and their only son. This is a house for the von Trapps, or something. Hell, maybe even they would get lost.

Since the Academy Awards, Steve has had a little time to get used to people looking at him, side-eyeing him. He doesn’t know what they’re thinking, but he can assume, probably wondering why Bucky Barnes, award winner, superb actor, all-round gorgeous guy, would be with someone like him. Sometimes Steve thinks the same thing, so he can’t really blame them, except for the fact that he also hates it. He’s starting to not have a good time, and it’s not even been an hour yet. He takes the first glass of champagne he’s offered, and tries not to knock it back like a shot.

They’re seated at a table with a handful of other celebrities, Natasha, Carol Danvers and Clint Barton among them. Another guy, too, who introduces himself as Sam Wilson; Steve thinks he probably doesn’t have to introduce himself a lot, because he seems so surprised when Steve doesn’t immediately recognise him, but he gives an easy smile.

“Your boy live under a rock, Barnes?” He teases.

“Stevie, tell ‘im the story about the premiere.” Bucky grins.

Steve groans.

“The premiere?” Sam asks.

Natasha smirks. “You’ll love this.” She assures him.

Steve hates all of them; to think he had called Natasha a friend.

“I didn’t know he was famous.” Steve sighs. He had been quite happy to forget about that whole incident. Fuck Bucky.

(Later, for sure.)

Sam looks puzzled. Steve can feel Bucky grinning, doesn’t even need to look at the bastard. “And how long had we been dating, exactly?”

“Six months.” Steve mumbles.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we quite caught that.” Bucky teases, leaning in closer to him.

“Six months!” Steve exclaims, his cheeks tinged pink. Bucky breaks into peels of laughter, Natasha grinning behind him. Sam is laughing too, but before he can say anything there’s a round of applause, the lights dimming as Tony Stark takes the stage.

Even Steve knows who Tony Stark is. Tony Stark, weapons manufacturer-turned-philanthropist. He saw how much harm his weapons were doing to innocent populations and changed his ways, devoting his time to science; hence the museum. He’s leading the way in renewable energy, now, and space exploration to boot. Steve kind of respects him for turning his life around. He doesn’t, however, like him.

“Alright, alright, I know we all just want to get to dinner, I know that's the only reason you're all here,” Stark says, pacing the stage with microphone in hand. “It’s customary that at the start of these things, i get up and say a big thank you to all of you fancy rich people for donating to the charity, yadda yadda yadda, so, thank you. This year the money’s going toward the _Get Girls Into Science_ program that we’ll be running in underprivileged schools all around the country,” he’s interrupted by more applause, which Steve joins in on because actually, that’s really fucking cool, “Yeah, do applaud it’s a really great cause, one that you’ve all so generously donated to.

And I do want to just briefly touch on our theme tonight - a lot of people say that art and science are two mutually exclusive terms, but as a scientist i know that science is itself, an art, and I’m hoping that for the sake of this speech that there’s some aspects of science to art as well. Our new collection is focused on the art you can find in science, and we've spent a lot of time - or Pepper has, you all know Pepper, lets give her a round of applause, our amazing curator - she's spent a lot of time collecting works that really stand up to the theme, for you to peruse at your leisure once the food is over. Speaking of which--" Doors at the back of the room open, servers in black-tie bringing out plate after plate of food. "enjoy the food, enjoy the amazing exhibits, and thanks for turning out for another year."

No one is really listening by the time Tony has left the stage, too busy oo-ing and ah-ing over the food. It's good, too - feels a little extravagent, seeing as this is a charity event, but his stomach reminds him to be grateful.

After the meal there's music and dancing and people standing around and chatting. There are photographers inside the event, too; someone snaps a photo as he and Bucky are stood talking to Sam some more, who Bucky must have worked with before, for the rapport they have going on. The back-and-forth bickering is amusing, but it also doesn't give him a lot of chances to input.

It takes an hour or so for Steve to get bored, and to start feeling seriously out of place; Bucky is his usual charming self, of course, so extroverted that it hurts, and Steve sort of envies him for it. Bucky'll thrive off of the attention but the more people who look at Steve, who talk to him. the more he starts to feel self conscious in a way that he wasn't at the awards ceremony a few months before, and not even at the premiere, almost a year ago now.

When Sam drifts away and Bucky's attention is distracted by T'Challa and his fiancee Nakia, Steve greets them politely and then makes some excuse about going to the rest room before wandering off, down the quiet hallways of the museum. Not many people are looking at the exhibits, as it turns out, which Steve thinks is a shame. There are a lot of great things to look at: butterflies and their brightly coloured wings, a circuit board with its intricate lines. Steve flops down onto a bench opposite a blown-up image of an immunostained tissue, taking in the way the blues and the browns mix together against the white background. Take it out of context and it could easily be some kind of abstract painting.

"Yeah, that one's my favourite too."

Steve nearly jumps out of his goddamn skin, all but breaking his neck to whip his head around, watching Sam as he moves over to him and sits down next to him on the bench.

"You've seen the exhibit before?" Steve asks him.

"Had a walk around when I got here." Sam nods. Steve doesn't press him further, the two of them lapsing into silence.

"Too much for you out there?" Sam asks after a few more moments of quiet. He sounds like he's trying to be some kind of old, wise uncle or something, there to lend an ear and give some advice, and Steve would hate it if he didn't feel like he was about to suffocate.

"Yeah." He sighs. "It's not - y'know, it's not like it's anything new, not really. There was that red carpet, and the awards in February, and ever since he won, y'know, people take photos of us if we so much as step onto the sidewalk, but--"

Steve shakes his head, wrings his hands. He feels... guilty. That's what it is. Bucky had been so excited about tonight and the ticket was so damn expensive, and Steve feels ungrateful. He feels like he's ruining Bucky's night, even if - well, if he isn't. Bucky seemed to be having a good time, even if Steve _was_  moping.

"My ex, Riley," Sam says, filling in the silence Steve had left, his sentence hanging unfinished in the air. "We met in college; he became a therapist, proper job, fancy office. I decided to be a struggling actor. I did a couple of commercials, a couple of small parts, and he supported me a hundred percent. When I got my first big role, I thought, great - I can finally pay him back for all the time I spent bringing in shitty coffee shop wages and one-off payments from my episode of Law and Order." Sam smiles a little. "So I take him to this big fancy party, not too different from this, I guess, and he hated it. Said he could tell that everyone in the room thought that he was a nobody, and he couldn't stand them looking at him like that. We broke up about a month later. Some people just can't handle it, I guess."

Steve feels sort of sick. "Is that meant to make me feel better? Cause it really doesn't make me feel better."

Sam chuckles. "It's just to say that, well, I get it. But two things, alright - first, I've seent the way you and Barnes look at each other. Riley never really looked at me like that, so I guess that stands for something. Second, there are definitely people out there who think that."

"That I'm not good enough?"

"Uh huh."

"Gee, thanks."

"Some people are assholes, Steve." Sam shrugs. "A lot of the people in here are old money, or have been famous for too damn long. It gets to their head. They start thinking that the 1% should only mingle with the 1%, and..." He shrugs again. Steve huffs softly. "But the majority of people out there? Man, honestly, they're probably not thinking anything about you. Or if they are, they're thinking that you look damn good in that blazer."

Steve blushes. Admittedly, he had forgotten about the painstakingly embroidered jacket, his default being to assume that people were criticising him rather than admiring his fancy clothing. He tugs at the sleeves a little self consciously.

"You can't know that." He mumbles, too stubborn for his own good.

"No, I can't." Sam agrees. "But I can be pretty damn sure."

He stands up, says a goodbye, and heads back to the ballroom to reoin the party. Steve is glad that Sam doesn't make him go with him, because he genuinely does dash to the toilet, albeit the more quiet one at the other end of the exhibit. The jacket _does_  look snazzy. He imagines it looks even better in the darkness, glowing ever so slightly. Maybe Sam has a point.

Steve slips through the crowd a few minutes later, suddenly feeling a hell of a lot more confident and happy in his fancy suit, to find Bucky talking to none other than Tony Stark. Bucky looks almost sheepish, and Stark talks with his hands, waving them around as he goes. Steve has to dodge them as he moves to Bucky's side, slotting his hand into his.

Bucky takes it a step further, though, wrapping his arm around Steve instead. "Where'd you go?" He asks, leaning down to kiss him, a quick peck on the lips.

"Looking at the exhibit." Steve answers, smiling gently.

"Oh, I see how it is, some little Brooklyn twink comes over and I'm chopped liver, huh? It's rude, really, consider yourself off next year's guest list, Barnes."

Steve and Bucky look up in tandem, but Stark doesn't geninely seem annoyed. "You're Rogers, right? Steve Rogers?"

Tony Stark knows his name - Steve's brain shortcircuits. He manages to nod.

"Y'know, after the internet managed to dig up your entire life history I had a look at your portfolio - not the professional one, not that that stuff's not great, and all, but that college one you had; Pepper had a look, too, and she really loved your stuff." Tony Stark had looked at Steve's work. He'd shown it to Pepper Potts. Pepper Potts had _liked_  it. "We're looking to make the museum a little more kid-friendly, and we were thinking some illustrations around the place could do the trick. Get ourselves a mascot, or something. Your webcomic, that Captain America thing - not half bad. She told me I had to offer you a job."

A job. Steve's being offered a job, by Tony Stark, to - draw?

Steve's brain has officially gone on vacation. Just packed its bags and gone. He gapes a little bit, and is incredibly grateful when Bucky says, "You got a number he can call? He's gonna say yes, but adults take a night to think about things, right?"

"So I've been told." Tony says. He doesn't have a card, but he does airdrop the number to Bucky, and tells Steve to call after 9am. His bodygard, Happy (ironic, because he looks anything but), appears at his shoulder - apparently the Secretary of Education wants a word with Mr. Stark. "Duty calls." He says as he steps away. "And I'm serious, Barnes. I've got all the legal right, I think you'd make an excellent Dad."

Steve would choke on that if he weren't still having an out of body experience. Bucky just snorts, saying goodbye.

"What was that about?" Steve asks, once his brain comes back from its vacation.

"He wants me to play Howard Stark when they make an biopic about him." Bucky shrugs.

"Woah." Steve murmurs. Seems like Tony Stark will be footing their bills for a while, then.

The song changes to something slow, and Bucky turns to Steve, taking his hand. "Dance with me?"

"Just this once." Steve teases. He's not much of a dancer, but even he can do this - wrap his arms around Bucky's waist and sway with him, forehead pressed first to his shoulder, and then to his own forehead as Bucky tilts his head down.

"You're having a good time, right?" He murmurs.

Steve nods. "I wasn't." He admits. "I was - I thought everyone was looking at me because they thought I wasn't good enough. For you. Then Sam reminded me that Wanda's amazing, and I guess I can't blame them for looking, so."

"They should be looking," Bucky says, squeezing steve a little. "You're gorgeous."

Steve rolls his eyes, but he doesn't stop Bucky from leaning down to kiss him. If anything he encourages it, leaning up on his tiptoes a little. The ensuing photograph makes it onto about 15 different celebrity intagram accounts, but Steve doesn't care about that either - he screenshots it from Sam's and uses it as his phone background.

When ticket sales roll around a few months later, Bucky doesn't need to plead with him. Steve gets the tickets for both of them with his new Stark-size pay packet before Bucky can even bring them up, and presents them to him over dinner.

"I said I'd get the next ones, didn't I?" He snarks.

"Does this mean I get to complain about  _you_ buying me things?" Bucky asks, grinning at him across the kitchen island.

"Absolutely not." Steve warns. Bucky doesn't complain, but he _does_  insist on buying their suits. Wanda doesn't care who pays, so long as someone does, and Steve thinks he can let it slide, just this once.

**Author's Note:**

> The Met Gala blew. me. away. and that's why this fic was born, basically. For Bucky's suit I was thinking something along the lines of [this work by dior](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/53/8c/c7/538cc774a01498ef8ccbbc4191bb6c61.jpg) for the red pattern on the suit, and something a little like [zendaya's amazing met gala look](https://media1.popsugar-assets.com/files/thumbor/3Bh7-5sjcGFix2VsDMAsss91NZg/fit-in/1024x1024/filters:format_auto-!!-:strip_icc-!!-/2018/05/07/115/n/1922564/09736b8043e5f09d_GettyImages-955770278_master/i/Zendaya-Met-Gala-Dress-2018.jpg) for the sleeves. 
> 
> For Steve you're gonna have to use your imagination a little more, maybe, but I was working off of [this image](https://www.aatbio.com/products/cell-navigator-mitochondrion-staining-kit-nir-fluorescence/figure-1-for-cell-navigator-mitochondrion-staining-kit-nir-fluorescence.jpg) for his suit jacket. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


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